against better adversaries."

"It is easy to try that," says Alan.

Duncan Dhu made haste to bring out the pair of pipes that was his

principal possession, and to set before his guests a mutton-ham and a

bottle of that drink which they call Athole brose, and which is made of

old whiskey, strained honey and sweet cream, slowly beaten together in

the right order and proportion. The two enemies were still on the very

breach of a quarrel; but down they sat, one upon each side of the peat

fire, with a mighty show of politeness. Maclaren pressed them to taste

his mutton-ham and "the wife's brose," reminding them the wife was out

of Athole and had a name far and wide for her skill in that confection.

But Robin put aside these hospitalities as bad for the breath.

"I would have ye to remark, sir," said Alan, "that I havenae broken

bread for near upon ten hours, which will be worse for the breath than

any brose in Scotland."

"I will take no advantages, Mr. Stewart," replied Robin. "Eat and drink;

I'll follow you."

Each ate a small portion of the ham and drank a glass of the brose to

Mrs. Maclaren; and then after a great number of civilities, Robin took

the pipes and played a little spring in a very ranting manner.

"Ay, ye can, blow" said Alan; and taking the instrument from his rival,

he first played the same spring in a manner identical with Robin's; and

then wandered into variations, which, as he went on, he decorated with

a perfect flight of grace-notes, such as pipers love, and call the

"warblers."

I had been pleased with Robin's playing, Alan's ravished me.

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